Once upon a time, when I lived in leafy Berkshire (I think that’s how it’s been referred to, and I can confirm there are trees), I had a loft conversion. It was an experience I’ll never forget. I knew it was going to be an upheaval, with dust, mess and people traipsing in and out. I also knew I would have days when I was pulling my hair out, wondering why I’d agreed to the project. But little did I know that it would be so much more than that — so, so much more.
I don’t know why I decided to record it in the form of a diary. I’d never written a diary before, though I’m glad I did, otherwise I don’t think I’d have believed what actually happened. I’m not sure what I planned to do with it and said diary remained forgotten for twenty years until I was sorting out some papers in my study recently. I thought it about time it saw the light of day.
Day One
I was first alerted to the scaffolding arriving when I found my five-year-old daughter, Charlotte, with her face pressed to the window and her arms waving madly at two very smiley men.
The scaffolding was up in no time and kept my daughter entertained for a good couple of hours, so I started to relax. What on earth had I been worried about? Everything was going to be fine.
When one of the men (who was still smiling) asked to use the loo, I didn’t think anything of it. When five minutes had passed and he was still in there, I started to worry. When ten minutes had come and gone and stretched into twenty, I knew there was going to be a problem. He emerged from the loo another five mintes later, no longer smiling, accompanied by the stench of something which couldn’t possibly have come from a human, and made a quick dash to the door, mumbling ‘thank you’ under his breath.
I grabbed my air freshner, which promised to not just ‘mask odours but attack them’, and put it to the test. It failed.
I knew this was an omen for what was to come…
Esther Chilton 
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